


The Perfect Disguise

by Dusty



Series: Conversations In The Car [7]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Companionable Snark, Dubious Ethics, Dubious Morality, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hot steamy sex, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mommy Issues, More overt D/S, Sexual Content, Top!M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-12
Updated: 2013-02-12
Packaged: 2017-11-29 01:55:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/681394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dusty/pseuds/Dusty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A.U. Post Skyfall, M is finding her 'transition into retirement' deeply dull. How can she spice it up? I can't tell you how not safe for work this is. Even though I did, in fact, write it at work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Perfect Disguise

**Author's Note:**

> M was never shot, but the battle at Skyfall still took place, ending in flames and the death of Raoul Silva. On returning to London, Bond and M were both suspended from duty pending investigation, for pulling such a dangerous stunt. Even Mallory couldn’t protect them, despite trying. Eventually, M was metaphorically escorted out of the back door, with full honours as promised. Bond was reinstated as part of her compromise agreement, and with the support of Gareth Mallory, the new M.

She sat on her sofa, swirling the bourbon in the glass. 7pm. He was late. She stood up and tried to find a use for herself other than waiting for a bloody man.

Her fingers brushed over the newspaper that day: A cabinet minister had lost 10 highly sensitive personnel files. Various scenarios played out in her head in a matter of seconds. Was this minister a scapegoat – the victim of a set up? Were the files lost or were they stolen? If stolen, who by? Who were the likely perpetrators? The faces of three suspects floated in front of her eyes before she blinked them away.

She threw herself back down on the sofa and took a large gulp of bourbon. How could she ever give this up? How would she ever learn to stop thinking like this? The bloody newspapers now knowing more than her every day. She ground her teeth, remembering the knife in Tiago’s back.

“Not Tiago,” she mumbled to herself. “Raoul Silva.”

She tried to feel satisfied that he was dead, that this was over. But her heart fluttered mournfully. The damage had been done. So many lives lost. All as a result of her decisions. And now she was serving a sentence in the gilded cage of retirement.

The house suddenly felt unbearably empty as she tried not to think. Retirement was always going to be one of those things she did with her husband one day. The day he’d looked forward to. They could have done the crossword together.

Who was she kidding? She stared at her reflection in the bourbon. “There was no other way,” she breathed to herself. “I did my job.”

She smiled to herself as she recognised his words, James’ words. And thank god he was safe. That really would have been the end of her. He was never so brilliant to her than that night, fighting off an army on pure wit and two old aged pensioners for back up.

“At least I got something right,” she murmured.

She took another swig, reminding herself she ought to go slower.

“Enjoying death?” asked James.

She jerked, stood up and turned around. He’d done it again. She glared her warning this time. He seemed to delight in finding different ways to break in, so she chose to ignore it. He chuckled at her mystification. 

“It is a kind of death if you must know,” she said forlornly. 

 “I can imagine. Sorry I’m late. Traffic was Hell.”

 “You’ve never let it hold you up before.”

“Well, I was told to blend in with civilisation. I’m trying to be good.”

“What an earth for? Not for me I hope.”

“No, ma’am. I know I’m not good for you.”

She smiled at him. “Definitely not. Certainly not when you keep me waiting like this.”

“Always in trouble.” He walked up to her, eyes gleaming. “You going to suspend me?”

“I’m not your boss anymore,” she said simply.

“I know. Things just aren’t as kinky now. Though you remain old enough to be my mother.”

Her eyes flashed at him. “If you want a spanking, Bond, you’re going the right way for it.”

He gave a smug smile. “We both know you’ve always wanted to put me over your knee.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Naturally.” She smirked at him as he blushed. Enjoying the moment, she turned her back on him, pouring him a glass of bourbon and topping hers up.

She took a deep breath. “Bond, what happened at Skyfall…”

“…special circumstances?” he stopped her before she could put him down.

She steadily handed him his glass forcing eye contact. “Very much so. But I don’t regret it if that’s what you’re thinking.”

He closed the gap between them. “And now?”

She regarded him as she took a sip. “Now I have to be very careful. As do you.”

James was practically leering at her. “I’m always careful.”

“That’s not what I meant. I may have been put out to pasture, but I still have responsibilities towards you. And you have a country to defend.”

“Still won’t let your guard down?”

“Will you?” she countered. 

“Do we ever need to?”

“I hope not.” She stepped away from him and flicked a light switch. Three mellow lamps now highlighted the sitting room, accentuating the tones of twilight outside. She turned back to scowl at him, her hand still on the light switch. “And don’t imagine that carrying on with me will get you preferential treatment. If I hear you’ve been giving Gareth Mallory the run around you’ll be sorry.”

James chuckled. “Once the queen of MI6, always the queen of MI6.”

“Damn right. Now be a good boy and take your clothes off.”

She gave him a wicked grin before exiting the room and leaving him standing in the middle of the room with his mouth open. He held onto his whiskey glass for support.

\---

He’d got as far as removing his shoes when he followed her into the bedroom. It was delicately lit, and he pondered M’s love of mood lighting. She came out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a silver short satin night dress. He hardened instantly, sensing all kinds of delicious danger. He swallowed, his throat far too dry, and knocked back the remainder of his drink. He padded into the room cautiously.

“Oh don’t act like you’ve never been in here before. I know very well you’ve prowled around the place to your heart’s content.”

He had the good sense to look sheepish. “I only peeped,” he argued sweetly.

She looked at him, stern again. “I told you to take your clothes off.”

He said nothing, but began a conservative strip tease, all the time looking at her.

She watched him shamelessly, draping herself on the bed, eyeing every part of his revealed flesh, allowing her cheeks to colour and her pulse to quicken. He could see what he was doing to her. She did nothing to hide it.

Her eyes sparkled as he removed his underwear, his erection bobbing respectfully at her.

She patted the sheet. “Come here.”

He bowed his head in submission, a gesture which almost made her gasp, then took his place beside her, lying on the bed, and waited for his next order.

“Good boy,” she praised.

It should have sounded ridiculous. But he loved it. He felt himself tremble as she leaned in for a proper kiss. He let her invade his mouth, her warm hands exploring his chest, and he began to simply melt under her ministrations.

He relaxed his neck backwards, giving into the kiss. Her hand cupped his face and he moaned into her mouth. He adored it when she did that. She was so close to him.

He splayed his hands out, unsure what to do with them until she told him, snatching at the sheets. The kiss seemed to last forever, their tongues finding so many ways to dance together, hers mostly on top.

Eventually she pulled away and beamed at him with dazed eyes and swollen lips. She looked down appreciatively at his body but then huffed, catching his hand. His hand which was idly playing with his cock. She tugged it away and then slapped it.

“ _Naughty_ ,” she chided.

James pouted, having been genuinely unconscious of doing it. He rubbed his punished hand and glared at her. She was laughing at him.

“I thought you were going to be good,” she intoned with a sigh.

This produced a more dramatic pout and she responded by straddling his thighs, seizing both his wrists in her hands. “These belong to me for now. Is that clear?”

He suppressed a giggle. “As you wish, ma’am.”

“Oh stop calling me that,” she said, apparently trying to shake off an unwanted mental image.

“So what do I call you?” asked James half-heartedly fighting against her hold on his wrists.

“Nothing. I call you. You don’t call me anything,” she informed him.

“The perfect disguise,” he drawled, risking impertinence.

“Careful,” she warned. “These are my terms.”

His eyes twinkled as he grinned at her. “Very well, m’lady.”

“James,” she admonished. “Behave yourself.”

He looked as if he desperately wanted to push his luck, but then gazed up at her with heart breaking sincerity, taking her breath away.

He stopped resisting her grip. “I’ll try. I mean it.”

M’s heart was in her throat. He was putty in her hands. Adrenaline coursed through her. “Are you sure you can handle this?” she asked him.

“Are you?” he deflected.

“I asked you first.”

“You are the most stubborn woman I have ever met.”

“You are the most stubborn man I have ever met. Besides, my home, my rules. Now answer the question.”

He stared hard at her. “I’ve never been able to handle you,” he mumbled. “Never could.”

“Good,” she said, her body relaxing a little. “The moment you think you can, we’re both in trouble. Be wary, OO7.”

“You can’t call me that anymore.”

“I’ll call you what I bloody well like,” she said, squeezing his wrists again. “Don’t you see,” she said more softly. “We must maintain a little bit of distance for our sanity.”

James frowned. “I find that hard to understand from my current position.”

“Intimacy, James,” she whispered, nipping his ear and causing him to wriggle underneath her. “Has nothing to do with where your crotch is.”

He gazed at her, eyes smoky. “Does that mean you want intimacy, or you don’t?”

She didn’t answer. With an enigmatic smile she firmly placed his hands on her hips, leaned forward and kissed him hard. He bucked against her, desperate for contact.  

James broke off the kiss. “You’re not going to take this off?” he pinched at the satin material.

“My house, my rules,” she repeated, returning his hand back to its position with a warning tap. She then moved right above his crotch so he could feel the heat of her on his bare flesh. His breathing quickened, his hands staying in place, and she winked at him before guiding herself down on his cock. He threw his head back with a groan and clutched her hips hard.

“Oh that’s perfect!” he said, unsure if he said it out loud or just thought it really hard. He mewled with pleasure as her perfectly wet warmth encased him.

“Always be prepared,” she stammered out as she started to ride him.

She started out slowly, so slowly, that James had to tense all over to remind himself he didn’t have permission to move. Instead, he supported her hips. He looked down at where she was clamped to him, but alas, the sexy material was blocking his view. He stole a glance at her to see if she was watching him.

She was licking her lips and her eyes had drifted closed. She was an absolute vision. But he wanted to see more. Eyes darting between her face and her crotch, he surreptitiously tried to hoist up the material with his thumbs, his hands otherwise staying in place.

She moaned loudly above him as she quickened her pace. One of her hands went to his and he tensed. Her eyes snapped open as she realised her nighty was bunched up, and she caught him peeking at her intimate region.

“James!” she scolded, taking his hands once more and readjusting her negligee. “You’ll be punished for that later,” she told him in a sultry tone. 

He tried to express contrition with his eyes when no words came, but she merely tutted at him. With a devilish smile, she gave in and pulled off the last of her modesty, flinging the satin clothing to one side.

“Is that better?” she teased.

He groaned in response, finally allowed to take in her whole forbidden body. He sat up and took a breast in his mouth, sucking at it hungrily, as she held him tight to her.

Her moans filled the air – it was too much sensation, and she quickly gripped his shoulders.

“No, lie down,” she commanded gently. “Not this time.” She returned to her previous technique, leaving him powerless beneath her.

It was all James could do to lie there and watch. She leaned in again, planting kisses all over his face. How she managed to be so erotic and so loving all at once eluded him. He felt so safe, yet also in terrible danger, wondering if his body might turn to pure electricity with the thrill of it. She leaned further forwards, giving him a little leverage. Her lips found his neck, kissing and sucking, as he thrust up into her in short, quick bursts. She almost collapsed onto him, but found the will to sit back firmly and calm him down.

He heard himself cry out as she did so, trying to keep control as her movements quickened. He tried to roll his hips, but she had him pinned down, enjoying her own rhythm. She knew exactly what she wanted and she was getting it. He had so rarely not been able to set the pace; the loss of control made him dizzy. All he could do was breathe, letting her take him.

The sporadic clenching around his shaft drove him mad as he tried in vain to arch off the mattress. He cried out in frustration, but his shouts were matched by her cries of pleasure. She was so wanton. He gasped for air as she chased her release.

“Fuck! Come on,” he grunted. Still unable to set the pace, he moved his hand to finger her clit, applying pressure each time she ground her hips against him.

Her hand joined his and she pressed it hard against herself, her other hand on his stomach for balance. He held onto her hip and pushed up into her. “Come on!”

Her cries became thoroughly depraved, a succession of throaty screams as she tightened around him wildly, still holding his fingers to her clit.

He was going to lose it, he knew it. He couldn’t stop her ripping his orgasm from him. He flung his head back again and cried out with pure helplessness. But just then, his cock was gripped in a glorious vice, almost painful undulations assaulting him. She gave a filthy shout as she came, and it happened. He moaned softly as he felt himself erupt, pulsing into her, his cock throbbing and a bright light blinding him behind the eyes.

\---

The room was quiet and still. The sheets were a crumpled mess. He could hear her in the bathroom, no doubt putting herself back together after her transgression. But when she returned to the bedroom, her eyes were shining with mischief, her face as lusty and dishevelled as ever. She was wearing the nighty again.

She sat half on the bed and put her hand on his shoulder.

“Still in one piece?” she asked, voice low and thick.

 James narrowed his eyes. “I don’t trust you. You’re pure evil.”

“That’s better,” she said. “Tea?”

James sat up and looked at her seriously. "I thought you said there were more ways of loving someone that just fucking them into the mattress."

She blinked at him innocently. "All things in moderation, Bond," she replied coolly. "Now go and put the kettle on, and we'll discuss your punishment."

James allowed himself one dazzling defiant glare at her, before descending fully into a pout and padding into the kitchen. 

 

 


End file.
